Thoughts
by Anna3422
Summary: Four short blurbs about each of the Pevensies, from the perspective of one of their siblings. Very sappy.
1. Chapter 1

This is kind of embarrassing to look back on. I got rid of some of the more obvious typos and technical errors, although I'm sure there are more that I didn't catch. I also divided the story into four chapters instead of one.

Each section is about one of the Pevensies, from the perspective of one of their siblings. The writing is meant to follow the characters' train of thought. I think it's fairly easy to tell who's who, but please ask is anything doesn't make sense.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

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_I have no idea Susan. None. Is it something wrong with the country you loved; something wrong with Aslan? With us? _She isn't the person she used to be or the person she should be. She doesn't even remember that person. _How can you do this to us? How could you forget so easily? _She sees nothing substantial anymore. She doesn't care that there are hundreds - thousands - of people bowing in her name . . . waiting for her. But that isn't true. Susan would care about that. She would care a great deal . . . if she remembered. Perhaps she couldn't help forgetting. Perhaps the friends - human friends - are more important to her. _But they don't love you, Susan!_ Not the way we or her subjects do. Not for who she really is.

Lipstick, nylons, styles of clothing. It's all those girls think about. All Susan thinks about! Although she isn't one of those - one of them. _You were always so beautiful._ It's why they like her; I know it is. She was the most beautiful person I ever knew. And the warmest. The gentlest. The most compassionate. The nicest smelling.

Why does she let them change her? Is it because she's afraid? Was Narnia too strange; too frightening? Not at first. But when it followed her back to Earth? Maybe. They wouldn't have accepted her the way she was and she wants to be accepted. She always was too keen to be grown-up. I can't stand those shallow girls that adopted her, but I can't blame Susan. She's my sister. I've needed her my entire life. I still need her. And even though she isn't there - not the Susan I know her to be - I'll still love her forever.

Maybe it's my own fault. All our faults. Maybe we should have been less impatient . . . Maybe we frightened her. Maybe Aslan frightened her. If he hadn't told her to go back . . . Maybe she had to forget. So she replaced our world with this one. She was strong in Narnia. She was happy there. A great ruler.

She doesn't trust herself. Not enough to be brave and noble like before. She's trying to be shallow . . . because they - the humans - have made her think that's all she can be. And it's a lie. A horrible, cruel lie.

_You're a queen, Susan. Somewhere there are hundreds - thousands of people who can still remember you_. They still sing about her to their children and tell romantic, but entirely true stories of her beauty and her goodness. In the oldest parts of the country, noble beasts still keep their ears open for the sound of Queen Susan's horn.

But she doesn't know any of that.

Because she doesn't remember.

She's lost. We have lost her. But not forever . . .

I can't believe that it's forever.


	2. Chapter 2

We called her crazy once. We believed that she was too young to live in the real world. Too young to understand. We called her a liar . . . Funny how life works.

We were fools. It was us who didn't understand, never seeing what she did, or feeling what she felt. _But I try to, Lucy. I try every day. _I don't understand everything about my sister. Of course, you never can completely understand someone, unless you're Aslan. But I can see just enough to know that she's in the right. And that we should follow her. Such a pure, kind, honest person. It scarcely seems possible. It's impossible not to value what she says.

Sister. Lucy. Valiant Queen. She never changed. Never stopped believing in truth and beauty . . . magic . . . love.

Her heart and soul seem to float around her, so that you can see just how mystical - how _innocent_ she still is. It makes her so special. And so horribly, frighteningly vulnerable.

She never stopped trusting. And I don't want her to find out what the world can be like. Because lies and evil exist just as much as truth and goodness. Not everything is honest. Not everyone can be trusted. And some people are cruel. Believe me. I've seen them.

But maybe people like her are always naive. Maybe that's why everyone starts out that way in the beginning. Although I don't think I ever was. And how Lucy stays that way I'll never know. After everything that she's seen: more than anyone else her age. Funny that it doesn't change her. It should, since she isn't at all a forgetful person. But she is forgiving.

Maybe that's the secret . . . forgiving.

Maybe that's what makes her fit in with the Narnians, who are so far removed from our world on Earth. The badgers, and beavers, and mice, who run after her every wish. The dryads, and naiads who let her join in their rituals and their dancing. And old Tumnus, who favoured her over his own life.

They love her. Not for her strength or magnificence, as they do Peter, or for dignity and elegance, like Susan, but because she belongs to them. There isn't one creature: spirit, tree, or beast, that she doesn't care for. They understand her in a way that most people don't. That is the reason they bow to her.

It seems a good reason.

Because she is one of them.

Because she is Narnian.


	3. Chapter 3

And these last two were written a while after the first one, so hopefull the quality of writing improves a little bit.

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He's gone off again. Not to fight, but something to do with negotiating in the north. Why am I so afraid that it will become a fight? I shouldn't be. I am. To have brothers is far luckier than not having them. But all the same, I expect that not having them is sometimes easier.

He's negotiating with giants: huge creatures, and not always gentle. Giants, werewolves, and all manner of frightening people. He's done it before. Of course he has. He understands that sort of thing. It's just that, High King or not, he's still my brother. And he still may have to fight.

The Courtiers may all think that it's guite glorious to see their king riding off to battle. He makes them all follow him so readily. And he defends Narnia more bravely than any king did before. I wait at home.

I am always waiting. Waiting and worrying. Praying that he's alright. Because I know my brother. It's funny . . . Somehow, I worry less about Edmund. Somehow, I feel that he'll survive it all. It isn't so with Peter. Peter never does things to survive. He does them for the sake of protection, and for freedom. And he does them because he has to. Because if he doesn't, then no one else will.

Some kings send Generals into battle for them. They stay in their castles and wage wars where they please and other people fight for them . . . Peter would never do that. Peter would never use violence unless another attacked first. And he would never ask the Narnians to fight, unless he himself was at the front of the charge and meant to take all that was worst about the battle for himself. Because that is the fair thing to do. The noble thing. I wish sometimes that he were a little less noble.

Because I'm the one who has to see what it does to him. How _ill_ it all makes him. If a Narnian citizen is killed, he feels it. And if he kills one of the enemy in battle, it destroys him.

Why, in the name of Aslan, must there be battles? We all hate them. Peter hates them. I suppose I should be grateful that he's prevented so many. And that nothing dreadful has happened to him. And that the Narnians cheer so touchingly when they see he's alright. He isn't alright, though. Not on the inside.

And until we are at peace with the giants, he won't be.

Perhaps that is the price of being a good king.

Perhaps he'll be rewarded for it all . . . in the end.


	4. Chapter 4

The trouble isn't that there's something wrong with him, because I don't think there is. He's been doing remarkably well, in fact. He's a good person, really - an admirable person - and I assume him to be a happy one. I hope that he is . . . but I don't know.

And that's the trouble. That if there ever were something wrong, no matter how important, I would have no way of knowing about it. _Why is that Ed? Why can't you just say something? _

I want to help him if I can, but why? I keep thinking that he needs my help. That somewhere, behind all of his wise-cracking and cleverness, he's stuggling. I don't know with what. School, probably, or friends. Maybe us.

In Narnia, he would tell me. There was a time, when we were both kings, where things like pride and independance became less important. Because there was a country to look after and it needed all four of us. So even Edmund didn't waste time hiding things. It's in this world where he does that. Because he thinks that this world still hasn't quite forgiven him.

I can't just ask him what's the matter, like I would the girls. He'd brush me off. He might be perfectly happy. And if he is, then what'll he think. That I expect to him to act like me? Or worse, that I _expect_ him to be in trouble?

He's not a happy person. I've known that for some time. But I always attributed it to his personality. Because, as funny as it is, he's reserved in some ways. Not with his ideas, we hear those often enough, but with his feelings. It seems that ever since he was born, he's tried to hide his feelings.

And he's gotten a great deal too good at it. He hardly ever yells when he's angry or cries when he's upset. He doesn't smile. I should be used to it . . . but I still don't understand. Doesn't everyone cry and smile? If he only would, then I would know how to react, but he's given me nothing to react to.

_So what am I supposed to do Ed?_ Assuming that he's fine just seems wrong. After all, he's been in trouble before and last time . . . Last time we didn't find out until it was almost too late. I can't repeat that. I can't risk losing my brother, no matter how resilient he is.

He underestimates how much we care about him, I think, and how much he needs us.

But he can't solve everything on his own.

He's only a kid after all.

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So there it is. Told you it was sappy. Reviews and contructive criticism are welcome.


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